


Poems

by Krchov



Category: Original Work, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Gen, I Don't Even Know, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krchov/pseuds/Krchov
Summary: Collection of the various poems I have written in English. Mostly original work, but some fandom inspired as well.
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For F

Pink is the  
Sweetest color, the  
Gentle smile and giggles, the  
Need - no, the want to be good  
To be just  
To be the reason for your smile

  
Pink is the color of my shy wishes  
For you to be happy


	2. 0

When your own name leaves  
Your mouth feeling sweltering hot  
And tacky   
Take a rock - yes thank you, shale works the best  
And smash it into pieces  
Then  
Pick the feelings  
The history  
The lies  
The makings of your own words  
Chew it all up - press it into your teeth and tongue  
And leave the rest to be eaten  
By the mice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luc can have a little identity crisis, as a treat


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Wangji, the sixteen years after

How do you love a memory  
When everything of it is long gone?  
First,   
Draw your grief around you,  
Like a cloak.  
(don't let it choke you)  
Then,  
After waking up,  
Put your feet on the cold wooden floor.  
(get up)  
What did you say?   
What more there is? What comes next?   
I do not know that. No one does

You just do. 


	4. Chapter 4

Time is slowing down, piece by piece loosing it's essence. _What is going on_ , you ask. They smile and press the palms of their hands on the top of your head. _Everything is alright, don't worry my dear,_ they reply, carding their fingers through your hair. It has managed to grow past your shoulders when you wasn't looking. You haven't been looking for some time now.

You don't like this. You want to go back to the river and spread your arms like branches for the sparrows to sit on. You really like the sparrows. They say very little but tell you a lot;  
That the trees are going back to the mountainside and the rivers are finding new paths, the sun isn't so warm up there, last of the rooks left the field and the ants by the hill will eat their own queen tonight (you had to ask what sun is; they laughed and stroked your cheek. _Silly child_ , they called you, _there's nothing like a sun._ You don't know if you believe them.)


End file.
